


Pre-2019 one shots

by chimera_cosmos



Category: Final Fantasy XIII-2, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening, Subarashiki Kono Sekai | The World Ends With You
Genre: F/M, Male-Female Friendship, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:55:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25053505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chimera_cosmos/pseuds/chimera_cosmos
Summary: One shots for multiple fandoms I've written over the years.
Relationships: Misaki Shiki & Sakuraba Neku, My Unit | Kamui | Corrin & Silas, Noel Kreiss & Paddra Nsu-Yeul
Comments: 3
Kudos: 7





	1. 2018/The Path Was Yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "And I realized... I never knew my mother at all. Even though she saved me, it was still my fault for what happened to her..."
> 
> After the war between Hoshido and Nohr draws its end, Corrin reflects on her family and where her path has taken them. To make up for the time they've been separated, Silas offers to listen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally published in 2018 for yamadori. first version was removed from the site due to a tos violation.

The morning air pricks at her skin through the tight sleeves of her shirt, and she clenches her teeth to keep them from chattering. Dawn has broken over the horizon, and had it not been for the occasion, Corrin would have retreated to her chambers.

Instead, she finds herself walking with her siblings, a basket of sweet buns held tightly to her chest. Their smell curls against her nose, waters her mouth, and Corrin does not have to wonder as to why her mother loved them so much…

…At least that’s what she  _ heard _ .

An endless row of gravestones comes into view at the edge of the sloped path. White stones were aligned like perfect teeth, and yet there are so many of them it makes Corrin’s stomach twist in knots. She’s not sure how many of them belong to the causality in the Hoshidan square, when her dragon blood reached out to the beast within and the sword that exploded and killed all those innocents.

The road is direct, serving as a divider between the graves. At the end of the path is a much larger shrine, and Corrin doesn’t need to be told that it houses her late mother. Closer inspection reveals that previous offerings have already been made – food and other Hoshidan trinkets sparkle at the base of the altar.

Ryoma is the first to approach, followed by Hinoka, then Takumi, and then Sakura. It takes a bit of gentle prodding from her siblings, but eventually Corrin steps forward. As she sets down the sweet buns, she realizes she’s not sure how to pray. Is she supposed to clasp her hands and close her eyes? Does she speak in her mind? Aloud?

“Corrin? Are you okay?”

Her older brother’s voice slices her train of thought. Though it hurts a little, Corrin manages to bring herself to smile. It’s small, but it’s all she can do. “Yeah, I’m alright. Just... thinking.”

“If you need to take some time, we can stay a little longer,” Hinoka offers. “It’s been a while since we’ve come here.”

“No, I’m okay, really!” she faces them fully now, and the smile has yet to reach her eyes. “I made you all wait enough this morning so... Anyways, we should hurry back; Yukimura’s probably looking for us.”

And before they can protest further, she forces herself to walk. Each footstep feels heavy, and it’s silly – stupid even, but as she distances herself from the burial grounds, it feels as if her mother is growing further and further away as well.

* * *

By noon, Corrin’s heart feels heavier, and she can’t decipher why, but it drives her crazy. So she retires to the kitchen in Castle Shirasagi, hoping to satisfy her growing appetite. She’s greeted warmly by servants and chefs alike, but Corrin still chooses to sit away from the center of the room. Right now, she needs to be alone.

Another dip of miso soup swims in her spoon when she finds herself readjusting her posture. Hoshido did not have regular seats like Nohr, and though it’s well into a year, she’s still not entirely adjusted to them yet. The hurried action causes the bit of soup to slosh in its small confinement, spilling over the edges and successfully landing on her lap. A curse is pushed out between teeth and her hand splays against the table, searching for something to wipe it away.

“Here.”

The voice is familiar, and Corrin knows who it is before she even lifts her head.

“Thanks, Silas,” she says, taking the offered napkin.

“Mind if I sit here?”

...Really? Was he really asking?

Perhaps the incredulity crawls onto her face because his next words are rather flustered. “Right, I know, we’re friends, but sometimes I forget.”

“That we’re friends?” Corrin asks, but there’s amusement in her voice.

He makes a noise in his throat. “No, not that— I mean, kind of— Things are a little different now is all.” (He sits down across from her.) “When I was training to become a knight, we were taught all kinds of formalities when addressing royalty. I guess I slip up with you sometimes. We knew each other since we were kids, but I’m also your retainer. It gets a little confusing sometimes.”

Self-proclaimed retainer, she almost corrects. Not that it bothered her; it was just another way for Silas to be close by. And after the war between Hoshido and Nohr, after everything that happened with her adoptive family, he may be the closest thing she has to her past. Even if she can’t remember everything in detail.

He was just something else she forgot.

“Why the long face?”

“Huh?”

“You’ve been down lately, Corrin,” he says, and Corrin realizes he has food as well. Tonkatsu, was it? “It’s not like you.”

Fake smiles could fool her family, but she had a harder time with Silas, it would seem. “Am I really that easy to read?” A bitter undertone lines her words, and she rests her head on folded arms.

“You’re my best friend – of course I’d notice.”

“I guess I’ve had a lot on my mind,” she says, observing him as he opens the sleeve holding the chopsticks. “This morning, my siblings took me to see mother’s grave.”

He pauses. “Lady Mikoto?”

Corrin nods. “It just hit me a little. There were so many offerings, but I couldn’t identify any of them. Ryoma and the others knew exactly what to bring. They handed me these sweet buns for me to offer – mother liked them. But they just seemed so prepared for this. They knew what to bring, what she liked and what she didn’t... They even recalled happy memories and stories on the way to the shrine. "And I realized... I never knew my mother at all. Even though she saved me, it was still my fault for what happened to her...”

The suspended words tumble from her mouth like bricks, and her heart feels so tight in her chest it almost hurts.

And then Silas is grasping her hand. Firm, but not to the point of pain.

“It’s not your fault,” he assures, and he has that serious look on his face again. The one that he wore when they fought outside Fort Jinya. “Don’t ever think that. You had no control over what happened. That happened because of King Garon – not you.”

She wants to pull her hand back, deny his claims. He’s just saying what she wants to hear – he’s too nice to say the truth. Her eyes feel heavy, and her gaze goes back to the chopsticks and the food’s probably getting cold at this point.

“Thank you, Silas,” Corrin finds herself saying. “I… do appreciate it, really. But it all could have been avoided.”

Just like Xander.

And Elise.

And Camilla wouldn’t have retreated from her birthright, offering the crown to Leo, who claims to be prepared, but Corrin knows Leo, knows there is a chink in those words.

And Azura... Who wouldn’t have had to sing that damned song until the last note sapped away her soul.

“But could it have been avoided? Had there been another way, you would have been met with causalities on that path as well. Every road we take has consequences – and not all of them are in our control,” He releases her hand. “It’s hard to accept, but you shouldn’t have to carry this burden alone. Everyone understands.”

Now that had been said for her sake, and he knew it. She goes to counter, say that Nohr was less understanding, and that even some of the Hoshidans still eyed her with suspicion.

“You’re holding those wrong.”

Silas looks just as surprised as she feels. Those were not the words she wanted to speak, but... who on earth held chopsticks like that? There was barely a line of space between the upper stick and the lower. His fingers were curled too tightly, and she could tell his grip was tense.

“Wait... what?”

That does manage to get a one note laugh out of her. “Sorry, it’s just... you’re wielding them like a dagger.”

“Come now, I’m not used to these!” But he laughs too, and it’s a breath of fresh air compared to the weighty tone that laced his voice earlier.

“Here, let me show you.”

Without a second thought, she reaches for his hands. Her fingers weave with his, loosening the index and middle fingers. “Hold it like you would a quill – that’s how I remember. And you don’t need to have a death grip on them; just keep it steady and they won’t slip- No, that’s- You lost it, try again.”

Seconds drip by as she readjusts his hand, unaware of the flush that practically lances up Silas’ neck (from embarrassment or something else, she does not know).

“...There. That looks good.”

“Uh, thanks,” Silas’ eyes dart from their linked grasp back to the plate.

“Sure thing,” Corrin says, the warmth from holding his hand evaporating ever so slowly. “It takes some getting used to. You should have seen the first time I ate here. It was really embarrassing... Takumi got so frustrated he tried helping, and eventually Sakura stepped in when we were getting nowhere. That was before Takumi and I started getting along though, so he didn’t have that much patience for me. But he didn’t leave until he made sure I could hold them.”

At her retelling, she notices him smile, and at her puzzled stare, he shakes his head. “It’s... Although you hadn’t been in Hoshido as long as you have Nohr, you seemed to have made some good memories as well.” There’s a pause. “That’s a good thing.”

He stuns her into silence, leaving her to ponder his words.

She didn’t have funny stories to recall with her mother given the short time they had together and her own cloudy memories... But her siblings were still here for her. They had tried so hard to make her feel at home.

And Silas tried so hard to make her remember, to help her in the war and even in her weaker times...

“Hey, let’s see each other again later,” He regards her with curiosity, grip slipping on the chopsticks. “There’s something I want to show you.”

* * *

The lake may have been the only part of Hoshido that hadn’t changed. If she closed her eyes, she could sometimes hear Azura’s voice, the first two lines of that enchanted song weaving in and out of her mind. But no matter how much she wished, Azura was not here. Corrin knows the Azura she saw the night of Ryoma’s coronation was a vision, but sometimes she wished it hadn’t been so.

Endless clear water stretches before her, undisturbed by ripples or lone breezes. She’s ankle deep, the mud sucking her toes into its grip as the frigid hydration pricks her feet.

‘I think if you look closely, you might sense something deeper.’

Corrin clenches her eyes shut, tries to empty her mind of everything that has plagued her for the past days. But even in the swirling dustbowl of her mind, she can’t feel anything. It’s as if there’s a gap, something missing, something she has yet to understand.

“Lady Corrin—”

A gasp wrenches itself from her throat and she stumbles, legs tangling with one another in a dance of confusion and she almost falls into the water—

—but Kaze’s fast, and he pulls her towards himself to steady her.

“My apologies,” he says hastily, letting go of her wrist. “It wasn’t my intention to startle you.”

“Kaze, you- I know you’re a ninja, but you really have to stop doing that,” she huffs. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it. But... What are you doing here?”

“Nothing you should concern yourself with, Lady Corrin,” he responds, turning to depart from the shore. “I’ll be returning to Castle Shirasagi fairly soon.”

Corrin swallows past the hesitance that clogs her throat. She knows it’s probably not the right time to ask, let alone mention her, but she’s seen how Kaze was following the war. He was... almost like Corrin herself, a smile that failed to reach the eyes, a cover to ease the worries of others.

“You... I know you miss her too,” she says, notices how he freezes in place. “She was a very selfless person, and I know she cared for you just as much.”

It’s quiet. His back is still turned to her, and had they been closer, maybe she would have reached out and touched his shoulder.

But no, that wasn’t her job. It was something Azura would have done – not Corrin.

“I still have it.”

Corrin knows. “The pendant.”

“...I can’t bear to look at it sometimes. But we made a promise, so I will hold onto it for as long as I need,” Kaze says. “Forgive me, Lady Corrin, but I should be going.”

She doesn’t stop him. Instead, she listens to the sound of his footsteps before she hears nothing at all.

* * *

Silas arrives shortly after.

It doesn’t take much persuasion to have him stand by her side in the water.

“Azura asked me if I could sense something, but I don’t know what I’m supposed to be looking for,” she says. “What about you? Can you see anything?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t think I’m the one who can see it, Corrin. I think what Azura meant has something to do with you. It’s hard for me to tell though. She was quite the mysterious one, was never one to talk too much about anything...”

“Absolutely.”

Somewhere in the distance she can hear the occasional trill of a bird, the gentle rustling of the trees as they sway in a sudden breeze.

“What do you think King Garon meant? That his mind was lost?” she asks. “When we defeated him, it was as if he was... already dead. Did he really change?”

“Are you saying he was being controlled?”

No, that didn’t sound right... Nobody had magic strong enough to control a king – and Hoshido would never have done so. Perhaps he regretted his actions, perhaps Azura’s song cleared his twisted mind. The possibilities were endless, and Corrin’s head was beginning to hurt. She didn’t want to think about this right now. There were other times for this, weren’t there? Yet something wasn’t right, and how much longer did they have before it was too late?

She sighs. “I didn’t mean to kill the mood. We’ll talk about it some other time. We should start heading back.”

Corrin manages to backpedal only a step before a splash of cold water lashes out at her. She manages to sputter out a surprised, “Silas-  _ Really _ ?! Now-” before another one cuts her off.

He laughs. “Come on, we haven’t had time to ourselves like this since we left for Nohr. It’ll be just like the good ol’ days,” he gives her a cheeky smile. “You’re free this afternoon right, milady?”

A blush dusts her cheeks at the nickname. Lord she hated formal titles. “Don’t call me that!” she splashes him back and he only laughs harder, but Corrin can feel a smile pulling at her lips. “You  _ are _ aware I can turn into a dragon now, right?”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

“Oh, funny—”

Her clothes are soaked to the skin, but it’s the happiest she’s felt in a long time. In between the surges of cold water, Corrin’s heart feels strangely full. For once, she feels the stress ebbing away. She knows it’ll be back – it never fully leaves.

Maybe it wasn’t the right path, and maybe she really  _ couldn’t _ stop the causalities...

But she knows she can trust Silas to help her when she’s down, to bring her back to days long gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i refrained from using ao3 for the longest time because it wasn't colorful enough. no, i am not kidding you. what i manage to find across my old wattpad, deviantart, lj, and tumblr will be uploaded to this collection as long as i don't think the writing is too cringey for its time. if you were daring enough to click on a fanfic with such an unimaginative title as "pre-2019 one shots", then i would like to direct you to my [more frequent works instead](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chimera_cosmos/works).


	2. 2018/She Stood For Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the years roll by, Emmeryn watches them grow and wonders where their path will lead them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally written in 2018 for kikibug13.

_i. nine years_

* * *

It is only a day before her tenth birthday when the world decides to suspend her by her feet.

She remembers the rushed voices, the panic buzzing in the castle walls like angered hornets, the increasing tempo of her heart as it flutters against her ribcage. But she wears the mask she was told to wear, visage no longer a window to the emotions that boiled beneath. There’s cacophony surrounding them and Emmeryn is given pitying stares as she takes her first step from child to adult.

The Exalt has taken his final breath.

The torch is in her hands.

* * *

_ii._ _twelve years_

* * *

Morning breaks over the horizon, slabs of sunlight filtering in through the dual floor-to-ceiling windows breath life into the room. The sky is clear and brings a gentle breeze, and though it’s wrong to think, today Emmeryn does not want to be Exalt.

Here she sits, weighing elements of politics in both hands. Two years of this, so she’s well accustomed to the weight of the work.

Lissa’s insistency proves difficult to ignore, demanding tugs at Emmeryn’s robes as she practically begs for attention.

Ever the eldest sister, Emmeryn kneels to her height. “What is it, Lissa?”

“Play!”

It’s one word, one that she has been hearing for well over the last ten minutes. She can only imagine the type of woman her little sister would grow into. Brash and impatient, or determined and kind?

“Lady Lissa,” Ylisse’s Hierarch breaches her line of sight as he goes to grab her hand. Lissa fusses, and the very action sands away at the patience lining his face. “Your big sister is very busy right now. You can play with her later.”

“It’s okay, let me talk to her,” Emmeryn says. Request granted, she takes Lissa’s hand. At Lissa’s pouting, the gentle smile that tugged at her lips widens just. “I’ll finish soon. Then you, me, and Chrom can go to the gardens. Okay?”

She extends her pinky finger to Lissa, a silent promise. Lissa regards it for a handful of seconds before she grips it (or rather, tries) with her own.

“Okay,” she says, and she allows the Hierarch to lead her outside the chambers.

When the doors close, Emmeryn’s attention is dragged to the papers that pile at the desk. There’s the occasional request from a villager, a desperate wish to see their loved one swept into the maws of war years ago. Emmeryn can’t bring herself to tell the truth to this mistress just yet.

Especially on such a beautiful day.

But even the requests of Ylisse sound more appealing than the other option.

The current monarch of Plegia is very different from its last ruler. Emmeryn had worked hard to mend the scars of war, to smooth the roughness between Ylisse’s neighboring country. Though their current monarch made demands that straddled the line of threatening and non-threatening.

Perhaps she was reading the message wrong – they had not raided villages, or Ylisse for that matter, but...

There’s a sense of foreboding that creeps up her spine any time the word ‘Plegia’ rings in her ears.

“Your Grace?” the voice is familiar, and she knows attached to it is a friendly face. The door creaks open just slightly before slamming shut. “Apologies, may I come in?”

“Of course, Philla,” Emmeryn responds, amused. Her childhood friend and retainer, Philla is clad in Pegasus Knight training gear. Despite her commanding attire, her breath rushes in and out of her. Emmeryn can’t help the giggle that bubbles past her lips. “It must be grand news for you to arrive so quickly.”

A blush dusts Philla’s face. “Forgive me,” she says. “And for opening the door. I should... be more respectful in your presence.”

“No,” Emmeryn shakes her head gently. “That’s not what I was implying. Is there something I can do for you?”

“Ah, that’s right,” Philla straightens. “Have you seen Lord Chrom? He is usually the first to sword practice, but we have not seen him.”

She sighs, rising from her seat. “I’m sorry, I hadn’t realized how late it’s been. He and Lissa had gotten into a little disagreement earlier...” Perhaps the main reason Lissa had sought her out that morning, despite fully knowing of ‘sister’s chores’. “He’s probably in his room. Allow me to get him.”

“Thank you, Your Grace. I shall take my leave.”

Emmeryn proceeds down the hall, the sound of her shoes bounces back at her from the empty walls. There’s the occasional guard on patrol, but the majority have been excused for morning practice. Indeed it was strange... Chrom was never tardy for practice – whether he argued with Lissa or not.

The answer to her pondering sputters back at her as she opens the door to Chrom’s room. His name dies on her lips, and she swings the door open without hesitance. Suddenly her heart is filled with the same panic that plagued her the day the previous Exalt had died.

Ajar is the bathroom door, and there’s a flurry of splashing noises that presses into her ears, knocks on her eardrum, chanting hurry, hurry, hurry—

—Chrom’s head is submerged when she steps into the connecting room, and she glimpses his face, tightened as he struggles before his feet slip on the porcelain basin—

“My gods! Chrom!” his name bursts forward with her hurried steps. The sleeves of her robe slide down her arms as she dips her hands into the lukewarm water. Plastered to her skin, they are uncomfortably wet, but it’s the least of her concern as she promptly plucks Chrom out of the water with all the strength she can muster.

He’s conscious, remarkably so, and she later she’ll realize had she arrived later...

Each cough racks his body, and she yanks the towel off the rack above their head. Emmeryn places her hand on his back as the water is expelled from his lungs. When he begins to straighten only to lurch as another surge of water climbs up his throat, she pats his back gently (“No, lean forward, you’re okay”) and drapes the towel over his shoulders.

She can practically hear her pulse as her blood lances through her from the shock. Her heart clenches as his coughs begin to subside. His breathing is punctured with ragged inhales and exhales, but there’s no more water. He’s shaking, so what does she do now? If only Mother were here, she would’ve caught him sooner—

Emmeryn pulls him close, burying her face in the towel that covers his shoulders. Gods she was so scared, she almost lost him...

“I’m so sorry, Chrom,” her voice whispers against him, trembles with threadlike restraint. If only she hadn’t been so focused on the Exalt role, spending more time flipping through documents than with her family. “It’s my fault.”

It’s the wrong thing to say, she initially thinks as Chrom pulls away from her, incredulity scribbled across his face.

“Why,” he coughs once. Twice, and Emmeryn’s afraid there’s more water in his lungs. His eyes are wet and she knows, he’s just as scared as her. “Why are you blaming yourself? You saved me. Emm? Emm, I’m okay. Don’t be sad, don’t cry—”

The tears prick her eyes, burn her vision and she can’t look at him.

So she holds him.

.

.

The evening sun sets the fields ablaze in golden fire. Lissa gives both Emmeryn and Chrom a flower, giggling happily as she runs. And though he says he doesn’t like it, Emmeryn sees it buoying in the glass of water by his bedside.

* * *

_iii. eighteen years _

* * *

“I can’t do it, Emm…” Lissa sighs dejectedly at the staff. Emmeryn’s lips part to speak, but it is Chrom who cuts in front of her.

“Maybe you’re just not cut out.”

Lissa shoots him a withering look. “That’s not true! I’ll be doing all the healing for the Shepherds, so you’d better be nice to me or else!”

“You gotta be able to do it first though.”

“Like you’re one to talk! Frederick still beats you in swordplay every time.”

“That’s not true! I won twice! Maybe… once, but still!”

“Chrom, Lissa, please.” Emmeryn breaches their bickering. It’s nothing new, and though she should be annoyed, she finds it comforting. As she grew older, she was given less and less time being with her siblings. It was something she grew to accept, but not something she liked. “You will both grow into your roles – I have faith in both of you. Neither one of your skills is accomplished overnight.”

Lissa huffs. “Yeah, but I feel like I’ve been practicing forever...” In that instant, they can practically see the idea that springs to her mind. “Hey, why don’t we go into town? We haven’t been able to together like this in a while. What do you say, Emm? Please?”

“I would like that,” she doesn’t promise. Not after disappointing them again and again. “It would be nice to get out of the castle.”

It is Chrom’s silence that drags her attention next.

“Chrom?”

“I don’t know, Emm,” he says, shuffling the toe of his boot into the grass. “Is that such a good idea? You remember what happened that one time and- I just don’t think you should.”

“Things are different now,” she insists. The puckered skin hidden beneath locks of hair tingles in response. “I could never forget the animosity of our people. But you must understand they were suffering too.”

He narrows his eyes at the ground, the blades of grass beneath his foot smothered and peeled back to reveal the scalp of dirt. “That doesn’t excuse them for hurting you! We provide everything for our people. They had no right to say those things or throw those stones. I don’t know how you can be so forgiving. We can give them what they need without meeting them.”

“They are our people, Chrom,” her tone of voice adopts something more forceful. She begins to feel the prickle of annoyance. It was not a friendly topic – for any of them. “Without the support of the people and peace, a kingdom will fall. Force cannot always be met with force.”

And now he looks at her, disbelief etched in his eyes. “I can’t be as forgiving as you, Emm.”

“I’m not asking you to be. But it is your role to protect the people. You have to understand that much.”

Silence drips by as they hold one another’s gaze. Chrom remains unconvinced, she thinks, but that’s okay. She believes in him, and she knows with time that he will come to accept the people.

“Soo... Is that a ‘no’?” Lissa chimes in, referring to their previous conversation. “Because we can keep practicing if it is.”

Emmeryn shakes her head, chooses her words carefully. “No, I... I think we need this. Let me speak to Philla and the Heirarch, but we can’t be long.” As she rises, Lissa stands with her, face practically splitting with joy. “Do you want to come too, Chrom?”

He says nothing. There’s no indication whether he wishes to go or stay.

“Fine, but promise we’ll leave if someone says the wrong thing.”

“Of course.”

And at that, Emmeryn allows herself to smile as well. She holds her hand out to Chrom, who takes it, mumbling something about ‘being too old to hold hands’.

That day marked the last day the villages were unfamiliar with the taste of fire and the smell of smoke.

* * *

_iv. twenty-five _

* * *

“Be careful out there.”

“Chrom’ll be fine, Emm! I’ll heal him if anything happens!”

“She was referring to you...”

It had been decided that Chrom, Lissa, and Frederick would visit neighboring villages. Word of an uprising of bandit attacks had reached the halidom of Ylisse. Unable to leave, Emmeryn had no choice but to send the two of them and one of Ylisse’s most trusted knight. She did not doubt any of their skills. But she couldn’t fight back this feeling of dread poking into her side. It was persistent, an annoyance that was present for well over a week.

Something was coming, she knew this. But she didn’t know what.

A familiar dread, much like the one that chewed at her mind simply at the mention of Plegia.

“...Emm? Something bothering you?” Chrom’s eyebrows are furrowed in concern, and Lissa wears a worried expression of her own.

“No,” she smiles then, pushes aside the unruly thoughts. “Don’t worry. I’ll be here when you return.”

There’s hesitance, but slowly he nods. “We’ll come back as soon as we can. If you need us back, send Philla and we’ll come running.”

Lissa bobs her head in agreement. “Yeah, we’re here for you, Emm!”

“I ask you put your trust in me, Your Grace,” Frederick says by the door. “I will make sure no harm befalls Lord Chrom or Lady Lissa.”

“Thank you, Frederick,” she says gently. She looks at the three of them, and in that moment, the feeling of dread is gone.

(For now, she’ll later realize.)

“I know you will all return safe and sound.”

Emmeryn watches them leave until they are well out of sight. She sends a quick prayer to Naga, asking to light their path, guide them, beneath the deep sea of the sky. It’s a clear day that always brought her ease. And for now, she’ll wait.

They promised they’d return.

There was no one else she trusted more than Chrom and Lissa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i refrained from using ao3 for the longest time because it wasn't colorful enough. no, i am not kidding you. what i manage to find across my old wattpad, deviantart, lj, and tumblr will be uploaded to this collection as long as i don't think the writing is too cringey for its time. if you were daring enough to click on a fanfic with such an unimaginative title as "pre-2019 one shots", then i would like to direct you to my [more frequent works instead](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chimera_cosmos/works).


	3. 2012/Green-Tinted Lens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiki never expected to be friends with someone like Neku.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally written on ffn in 2012.

_i._

Out of all the people she met, Shiki didn’t expect to be friends with Neku.

He was very straightforward, a person who radiated an intimidating aura if you didn’t know him. But if somewhere were to sit down and peel away the layers of his complex personality, they’d see there’s a lot more behind the curtain. His eyes, that same shade of sapphire blue as they were in the Reaper’s Game, held complex emotions, a tornado picking up different feelings that were hard to pick out individually. The headphones he wore to block her out – the _world_ – were sitting comfortably around his neck, no longer clamping over hidden ears. He was letting people into his own world, and entering theirs.

He still wears Jupiter of the Monkey trends, which does irk her… Because there are so much better trends out there and Neku’s fashion sense was no better than Beat’s.

But since the meeting at Hachiko, after their Game, things couldn’t have gotten any better. She didn’t know why she kept delaying her talk with Eri. Perhaps it was the feeling that if she didn’t show up one day at the dog statue, everyone would be gone and she’d wake up to her next day in the terrible week of hell, Neku prodding her in the side, and speaking with an apathetic tone.

Shiki’s _scared_. Because if she doesn’t show up one day, what if they really _do_ disappear? She wants to voice this thought to Neku, but she remains quiet. It’s not his problem and either way: He’d grow tired of hearing her complain and worry anyway.

Neku shoots her a concerned glance over his shoulder when she remains unresponsive to a story Beat just barked out. He asks if she’s alright, and Shiki’s glad she’s become an expert on lip reading because their older friend is almost as loud as an elephant. In response, she nods back and it seems to be enough for Neku because he turns away.

_She never misses the wary flicker in his eyes when he drags his attention elsewhere…_

* * *

_ii._

Introducing Eri to Neku is difficult.

Shiki finally contacted her best friend, but something deep down told her to remain quiet about the Game. After Eri had practically strangled her in a bear-hug, tears cascading down her face as she apologized repeatedly for what she had said, Shiki knew the information about the Game would cause Eri to lose it all right there. Her friend was strong, admirable and very smart, but a small little push such as that could cause a person to ultimately collapse. And for all she knew, Eri could turn her back and tell her that it’s ‘not funny’ or something along those lines. Or perhaps Shiki’s being paranoid again, but she doesn’t want to risk it. So she doesn’t say anything.

Neku greets Eri- or rather _Eri_ greets _him_ ; she smiles, saying it’s ‘nice to meet him’ and that Shiki had told her all about him.

_She denies this flustering._

And Neku – _that traitor_ – is trying to hide a smirk of amusement when he notices Shiki’s utterly dying from the embarrassment of it all. When the meeting is all over, she was going to have a small talk with Neku…

But when they part ways at the end of their day, Eri backs Shiki into a corner for questioning. She wonders how Shiki – shy, timid and sweet Shiki – could become friends with someone so closed off and secluded. An introvert. Granted, Shiki was an introvert as well, but most introverts did not attract one another. Or so she thought… Regardless, Shiki laughs it off, saying their meeting was just ‘dumb luck’ and that ‘opposites attract’.

_She knows opposites attract, but any force can push them apart._

* * *

_iii._

Neku still makes the mistake of calling Eri ‘Shiki’…

She flinches away every time he makes that mistake. And sometimes, she can feel the jealousy rising in the pit of her stomach again. She becomes anxious, wondering if Neku really does prefer the old Shiki – her _looks_ , her _personality_ – over her true self. Neku had said he preferred Shiki the way she was, so why was she getting so worked up about it? But she’s not only afraid of Neku _leaving her_ , but she’s worried Eri will question them.

And she does.

The rose-haired girl asks Shiki herself, admitting it would be awkward to ask Neku since he’s the one making the mistake. And while Eri can be blunt with people, she hasn’t established a solid friendship with Neku yet to question him personally. She’s only blunt and straightforward with her friends. Because she pushes them into the right path. Others have two legs; they can move on their own – that was her mantra.

"Why does he call me by _your_ name?” she asks, sketching at a new design, refusing to look up. “It’s just weird, you know? Could you imagine someone calling you ‘Eri’? But we look _nothing_ like each other…”

Shiki shrugs, although Eri can’t see her nonverbal response. She shares a look with Mr. Mew, who remains unresponsive. He’s no longer in the UG – no pin to control him, no psych she could use to make him mobile. “Maybe he’s still getting to know us?” Her answer is weak, half answered because she’s too busy looking at her stuffed cat, as if he has the answers instead.

The pencil in her friend’s hand falls to the desk with a light ‘ _tap_ ’. “Okay… Just… _How_ long have you known Neku again?”

 _She’s known him longer than Eri knows – longer than she’ll_ ever _know._

* * *

_iv._

He’s the perfect model.

Shiki doesn’t pick on people at all. Not by appearance or behavior. But she has to admit, Neku kinda has _that_ type of body. The one where one could just throw together the most girliest trends and he could _still_ pull it off. From Lapin Angelique’s gothic dresses to Natural Puppy’s summer shirts and skinny jeans… Yes, quite embarrassing for her dear friend, but hey, somebody had to do it. And Beat just _happened_ to be sick whenever Shiki would bring up shopping…

"I hate this." Neku scowls, arms folded. He manages to pull off the look of an angry model quite well, actually.

Shiki covers her mouth with her hand, suppressing giggles and coughs of laughter. “It’s not _all_ a waste, Neku. I appreciate it, and so does Eri,” She lets a small chuckle escape her. “After all, you volunteered for this, didn’t you?” When he opens his mouth to respond, coming up with nothing, she allows a small grin of triumphant slide grace her lips. “Of course you did. So just try on a _few more_ and we’ll be done and you can go complain to Beat about how we tortured you.”

_She knows he can’t stand modeling, but he’ll do anything for a friend._

* * *

_v._

She’s a bit lightheaded when Neku asks her out.

She’s never dated before. Most of the guys would ask Eri (although she turned them down regardless), but _nobody_ talked to her. Her response is a flustered, ‘U-Uh… Sure.’ and he doesn’t look convinced at first, so she says quickly that she’d ‘love to’. And it’s true. If she were to start dating, she’d feel comfortable going out with someone who she’s known. Hell she would’ve gone out with Beat had he asked first. But deep in her heart, she’s glad it’s Neku. Beat is nice, a big brother figure, but she knows Neku.

_She’s more comfortable and knows what to expect from him._

* * *

_vi._

Shiki is confused and somewhat angry.

Ever since her and Neku began dating, they stopped talking to each other. He wouldn’t even look at her in class, and whenever they did get time alone, not much was said. It had seemed after their first date (when was that again?) they just… stopped talking. And it wasn’t completely Neku’s fault either. It bothered Shiki, but she didn’t know how to go about it either. Did _she_ make the first move, or was she supposed to _wait_?

It hurt to think about.

Because the last thing she wants is to be further away from Neku. She doesn’t want to lose him as a friend. And if the whole dating thing wasn’t going well because they were best friends and it was _awkward_ , then shouldn’t she do something about it? Neku certainly wasn’t moving anywhere and truthfully, she’s hesitant too… But she’s so tired of the silence. She’s so frustrated and deep down it really is affecting her overall. Neku is the closest person to her aside from Eri. So perhaps they were better off as friends…?

_She’s upset, but she knows what’s right and what’s wrong._

* * *

_vii._

Neku isn’t happy about breaking up.

He doesn’t go on a rant or a rage, he doesn’t curse her off, he doesn’t stomp away – he does none of these things. Instead, he goes deathly silent and nods, muttering a quiet, ‘Okay’. And that word alone – the tone he _uses_ – just makes her world fall apart. And guilt is ramming into her like a wave at the beach, compressing her with a force that is beyond unbearable and difficult to struggle out of. She apologizes and he apologizes too, admitting that maybe he should’ve spoke up more.

He still walks her home. And when she’s in the house, she calls Eri to explain what happened.

_She manages to keep both of her friends, but she knows the relationship with him won’t be the same._

* * *

_viii._

They start speaking again.

It’s a _miracle_. It’s almost as if their dates never happened. Shiki should be upset about this, but she’s not. She’s just glad that he’s finally talking to her again – and vice versa. Words flow out of their mouths so easily now and it’s as if they’re long lost friends finally reunited over years gone by. And thankfully, her whole friendship circle managed to stay intact; Eri is not mad at Neku, she’s not mad at Shiki. She’s sorry it didn’t work out the way they were planning, but she understands and she will accept – because friends do that.

In a way, it’s kind of odd: Shiki speaks to Neku on the phone nearly as often as she does with Eri. Most of her inbox is full of messages – conversations – from him.

But Shiki doesn’t complain – there’s nothing _to_ complain about.

_She remembers their first date every now and then, the behavior… But she knows it’s a thing of the past and as long as they were both moving on, she was fine._

* * *

_ix._

The Reaper’s Game is a touchy subject.

Neku never speaks of it, and neither does Shiki. But this time, it’s different because so many things are bothering her… And she doesn’t know _why_ , but she can’t seem to recall much from the fight against Megumi Kitaniji. She remembers seeing his true Noise form, but what happened after that? She goes to question Neku about it, and he falls silent. She notices there’s something in his eyes:

Disbelief, pain, loneliness.

She’s beyond confused, so she asks him what really happened.

He dismisses her with a shake of the head, saying, ‘It’s nothing’ before walking past her and down the hallway.

_She knows something happened… She knows there are gaps in her memory._

* * *

**x.**

_"Neku, you can tell me anything… You know that, right?"_

That’s what Shiki had told him. And yes, he knows he can, but does he want to? No. He’s already put her through so much in their first week… Asking for more could only dent a relationship further, right? He was an introvert; he needed someone to come to him, not the other way around. Shiki _knows_ this, and yet she still refuses to make a first move. She knows that he’s hiding something so why doesn’t she just outright question or corner him or something? He’d answer; he won’t yell at her. He _never_ yells at Shiki… Not since their first week.

But above it all, he’s grateful.

He’s still ignorant when it comes to friendship. But he knows with Shiki, he’s off to a good start in the right direction. She can guide him along the way.

He’s still a bit upset that they’re not dating, but at least they’re still friends. And the last thing he wants to do is jeopardize their relationship just because Shiki doesn’t want to be his girlfriend. And quite frankly, he isn’t so sure if he’s _ready_ for dating yet. The concept is new, and he’s a virgin to all of this. But things are patched up… They’re sewn together.

He’s still as close to Shiki as she is with Eri – perhaps more, now. So he assumes, but inside, he knows there’s an irreplaceable bond between those two – something that can’t be ignored. But Neku doesn’t mind in the slightest. Shiki needs the support, and while he may not be held in such a high position as Eri, he’s still up on the charts, somewhere safe in Shiki’s heart. And that’s completely fine with him. As long as he can still talk with her, protect her from harm, paint over any negative emotions (the _jealousy_ ) that might contaminate her mind again, then he won’t say a thing.

Looking back on his relationship – the _development_ – with her overtime from the terrible three weeks of gameplay in the Reaper’s Game, maybe he’s willing to let her into his own secret garden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i refrained from using ao3 for the longest time because it wasn't colorful enough. no, i am not kidding you. what i manage to find across my old wattpad, deviantart, lj, and tumblr will be uploaded to this collection as long as i don't think the writing is too cringey for its time. if you were daring enough to click on a fanfic with such an unimaginative title as "pre-2019 one shots", then i would like to direct you to my [more frequent works instead](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chimera_cosmos/works).


	4. 2015/Etro's Beloved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It hurts to see them come and go; from the ones who coldly pushed him aside and gave him the harsh truth, to the ones who regarded him with such pity. No matter the Yeuls, it’s always _her_ voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally written in 2015 on tumblr.

**1\. Days.**

xxx

Noel met Yeul when he was three.

Quite a young age, honestly. But for as long as he can remember, she’s always been with him, every step of the way whether it was through encouragement, or just as a friend. In the beginning of these days, both were somewhat shy around the other, and maybe he still was. But looking back on those days, he wouldn’t trade them for the world.

They rarely argued and if there were some inkling of a quarrel, it was Noel, for doing something rash and out of character. He wishes, every time he sees the open skies of Cocoon on his journey with Serah and Mog, that he could go back to those times, happier days. When he didn’t have to worry, where he still had Yeul _and_ Caius, when he wasn’t far away from his friends. He cared deeply for Serah and the others (even Mog, though he’d never say it aloud), but what he wouldn’t give to see _her_ again…

So he continues onward with that in mind, knowing when he sees his Yeul, they can go back to better times, catch up on days missed.

* * *

_**2\. Blue** _

xxx

Yeul was about eight or so when she starts picking on little details.

That went for Noel as well, _especially_ Noel.

He had a habit of waving his arms when he talked, had a habit of saying “Exactly” without noticing (or so she thought), and it was a bit of a childish question, but Yeul concluded he had a liking for the color blue. From a young age to the day she last saw him physically, he always wore clothing that somehow had to deal with the cool shade of water and (from what she heard) the sky.

But what stood out the most for her were his eyes.

They were a rather moderate shade of azure, but when she glanced at them, she could read him like a book. He kept a calm, cool face when confronted by someone he didn’t favor, someone tolerable. But when she looked at his eyes, she was met with a whirl of emotions ranging from irritation, annoyance, and ire.

(though she never says it aloud, those emotions tend to pop up when Caius berates him for a silly mistake in combat.)

Other times though, more _lighter_ times…

When he talks nonchalantly, smiling widely as he tells her of a discovery or just an interest that crosses his mind spurred by his grandmother’s old tales, they light up. They’re no longer an annoyed shade of blue but rather light and _happy_ , exuberant.

And Yeul feels a smile of her own, wishing they always displayed the happiness he felt within.

* * *

_**3\. Family** _

xxx

Though he has his grandmother, Caius and Yeul are like family.

He tells them everything, treats Yuel like a younger sister and all, and he does, to an extent, respect Caius as more than a mentor. Sure he’s had ups and downs with the man, but that didn’t stop the respect from pouring out. And then there was Yeul who, when they were little, would shield away from anyone who came near. She was shy, and it took him a while to finally coax her out, tell her that it was okay and that he wasn’t going to hurt her. And it’s odd because now he’s twelve, and he feels as if the tables have turned when _he_ starts avoiding her. He doesn’t do it out of malice, but when she comes near, he feels his heart pick up pace, beating faster, and he suddenly feels… _bashful_.

Before he confronts his grandmother, he talks to Caius because Caius knows more about Yeul than anyone else (aside Noel himself).

"I mean, we are family, right?" Noel fiddles with a loose string on the hem of his shirt, avoiding eye contact. "So why do I feel that way when I’m around her? Is it okay to like someone in your family?" It sounded odd when he put it like that, and he was positive that if it sounded strange to _him_ , it was probably worse for Caius. And the response that came wasn’t exactly… the one he was searching for. In fact, it motivated him to talk to his grandmother, someone who understood his quirky questions.

"Noel," Caius sighs, pinching the space between his eyebrows as he struggles to give a light answer. "We’re not family. We’re guardians, _Yeul’s_ guardians. We do not engage in anything outside of protecting her. She may be a friend to you, yes, but when you are older, you’ll understand why she has to come first, why you shouldn’t attach yourself like this.” His eyes narrow at the young boy, but not in a malicious way.

"You’re growing older, and things are changing for you. Mentally and physically. But you have to swear that you will _not_ think of her in any other way. Understood?”

He blinks a few times at the “order”. He just… felt different towards Yeul. Was liking her really a _bad thing_? But he nods, pretending he does understand so he can escape and speak to his grandmother about the odd stirrings in his stomach and the pounding heart feeling.

Later, when the skies turn into an abyssal black, he confronts her. He tells her about how he feels towards Yeul, how he’s been avoiding her and _everything_. And after he practically _pours out his heart_ , his grandmother just _laughs._ And it’s not just a simple chuckle, it’s _laughing_ , entertained. And all he can do is look at her with eyes wide as saucers and a gapped mouth. He feels offense touch his conscious and he lets her knows this.

"What’s so funny?"

She settles into light chuckles, knowing she has indeed struck him mentally (albeit unintentionally). Pulling him into an embrace (she ignores his mumbles), she responds simply, “Nothing, dear.” Another rumble in her chest. “You remind me of your father when he met your mother.” Noel quirks an eyebrow in confusion and she smiles softly. “You’re growing up.”

He’s still confused because there’s no straight answer…

But still, he knows that these feelings aren’t necessarily _bad_ … And deep down, he wonders (hopes) if Yeul feels the same about him.

* * *

_**4\. Too Much** _

xxx

He’s met many Yeuls on his journey from Oerba to Academia.

Each one is different.

Sometimes, it’s all too much.

He sees her, runs up as hope springs in his chest, setting his veins on fire that pushes him onwards. He grasps the Yeul’s shoulders in Oerba, asks her if she’s all right, where has she been… But what she says instead hurts. And he feels as if he’s been slapped when she mutters the heartbreaking words:

"I am not your Yeul."

And she brushes him off, walking towards Caius.

The pain in his eyes are clear as day and it bleeds into his expression. If it were his Yeul, she’d be able to pick out every emotion he feels with a simple flick of the wrist. And she would’ve comforted him, apologized if it were her fault. But his Yeul isn’t around, and he knows this, but every time he sees a Yeul, he can only hope.

In Academia, Yeul died in his arms again. But this time, it was a monster that had killed her.

When the spire had embedded itself into Yeul’s lithe form, sprouting from her chest as it protruded her in the back, he was astonished, paralyzed. He reached forward,shouting, “No!” as the Cie’th tossed her aside like a rag doll where she thumped against the cement with a pained cry. And when that monster showed itself, tossing her to the side like garbage, he feels rage mix in with the pain.

His sword is now in his right hand, the smaller blade in his left, and he’s charging towards the Cie’th with an enraged scream, deaf to Serah as she calls out his name before lunging in as well.

And when the fight is over and Yeul is with him dying, he can’t fight back the tears that fall when she’s gone. He looks to the sky, and his tears mix in with the rain that cascades down his face.

Now, he’s with Serah and Mog, resting at the Yaschas Massif (he’s not sure what year though). He’s on the night watch, but the constant rustling from behind signals to him that Serah isn’t asleep either, and chances are Mog is in the same boat. But he doesn’t turn around to talk; right now, he just needs to think, knees pulled up to his chest as he replays each run-in he’s had with Yeul so far.

It hurts to see Yeuls come and go from the ones who coldly pushed him aside and gave him the harsh truth, to the ones who truly pitied him, telling him gently that they weren’t his Yeul. And it hurts to hear it because it’s still her voice. The Yeul could be in the past or the future – it didn’t matter. Because in the end, he just sees her face, and it’s his Yeul telling him that they’ve never met, his Yeul everything.

He exhales shakily and his voice cracks. Noel slaps a hand over his mouth, burying his head between head and chest as his other arm pulls his legs closer, closing inwards on himself a tad bit more. He wants to hide, just disappear from the world as he visibly shakes, suppressing the pain that pools in his stomach, struggling to swallow the thick lump in his throat, the source of the constant sobs.

His face is wet and he wipes at his eyes angrily, scowling at how pathetic he must look. How weak and he thinks of how much Caius would scold him, how much Caius would tell him to get over it and carry on. It helps. A little.

Because now Caius is there enemy for sure.

And… just what happened to turn his life around like this?

"Noel?" a soft voice laced with concern. He feels Serah’s gaze bore into his back. "Are you okay?"

"Kupo…" Mog.

He sighs heavily, sniffling. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just thinking about a few things.”

Silence answers him before Serah.

"I…" She bites her lip, pulling Mog closer to her chest as if he’s a security blanket. "…know you’re still upset about earlier. About Academia." He stiffens at this; she’s hit the nail on the head, but was it really that hard to guess? "And you probably don’t want to talk about it right this minute… But Noel, can you promise me this?" He grunts an affirmative, back still turned. "If you need to talk, just let me know what’s going on. I won’t force any specifics and if you don’t want to go into deep detail that’s fine. But know that I’m here for you." She jostles Mog slightly and he lets out a startled "kupo!", and a ghost of a smile crosses his lips. "We both are." And judging from the now lightness of her tone, he can tell a bit of the weight has left her shoulders as well.

Noel turns in her direction, but he avoids eye contact (at first). “Thanks, Serah. I appreciate it.”

And he does.

Serah isn’t Yeul even though they may have the same ability, but he’s still grateful for her. To him, she’s a special person, a close friend. And with Serah at his side, perhaps the road to finding Yeul, his Yeul, wouldn’t be all that lonesome.

* * *

_**5\. Passing** _

xxx

To say that Noel was the _only_ person who felt sadness crush their heart when Yeul passed away was a _lie._

She was unsure if the dead could feel emotions, _real_ ones. But when she felt herself slip further and further away from her body, away from Noel and Etro’s shrine, she’d argue that the hurt and pain she felt was real. And Noel can’t see her reaching out to him, can’t hear the soft mutter of his name, and it adds to the sudden pressure behind her eyes. She silently prayed, the only way she knew how to communicate with a higher power.

She was a soul, speaking to Etro, wondering if she’d ever see Noel again.

_"In passing…"_

That _stung_.

Yeul thought she’d never see him in person. Never again. But Etro must have sensed her pain because the Goddess adds on. Whether She’s telling the truth or just trying to make the young seeress feel better Yeul does not know… But it’s a small comfort to her.

"But it will change… Not tomorrow, not next year… Eventually. Patience…"

And Yeul understands, and she repeats “when time passes to that day” in her head like a mantra every time she watches over Noel and Serah on their journey.

She prays for dark days to pass, and opens her arms to brighter ones.

* * *

_**6\. Hug** _

xxx

Noel lost his grandmother when he was fifteen.

She remembered how upset he had been that day.

To Yeul, he looked absolutely broken.

She could see he was trying to hide the pain from making itself known.

Yeul wasn’t very good with words; she didn’t know how to comfort people verbally. When she asks Caius if there was something she could do, he placed a hand on her shoulder, eyes (ironically) sad, as if he could understand Noel’s situation (and perhaps he did… But she isn’t willing to pry for answers). He had told her not to rush Noel and that when he was ready to speak about his grandmother, he would.

But Yeul turns out to be a tad bit rebellious when it comes to her friend’s wellbeing. Not that Caius had given her a direct order, but she knows it’s not smart to touch a hot pan before it cools. And right now, Noel is a whirl of emotions from frustration, sadness, and everything in between. She checks his house and it’s a stupid place to go because that would be the last place he’d end up. So Yeul treks up the white, sandy hill leading to the old, crumbling shrine for Etro. All that is left is a statue of the Goddess, and an Oracle Drive, which she has not yet activated just yet.

He’s there.

Noel glimpses her way when she settles down next to him. Her hands don’t go up in prayer; she does not utter any words to Etro. Not for now, that is. Instead, she observes her friend. His head is bowed and tresses of brown hair shield his face. But between the small spaces of his locks she can see that his eyes are closed, eyebrows furrowed. His hands hold one another, glimpsed so tightly they pale. And Yeul hopes it’s the lightning of the weak sun… But despite her presence, he remains statuesque.

Nothing is said for a while.

Yeul sighs softly, looking up at the statue, as if it held all the answers _._

Etro… What do I do?

"…Noel," he looks at her. "About what happened…" I’m sorry. It’s what she wants to say. But the moment those words would roll off her tongue, she knew it wouldn’t get the response she’s looking for. She wants to evoke hope in him, assure him she’s there. But she can’t say that with pity. There is no other way to put it though.

But sometimes, physical touch speaks on more levels than words.

Yeul doesn’t remember who told her that, but at this time, it seems right to do. She hurls herself at him, wrapping her arms around shoulders. They’re both kneeling which makes it a bit awkward, but (slowly) she feels his hands on her back and she feels him shake, the vibrations coursing through her body.

"I’m here." She knows it’s not the best, but to Noel it is. And she’s sure of it because she feels him slowly relax, muscles less stiff. When he utters ‘thank you’, Yeul simply nods against his shoulder. Because right now, there are no need for words; only a hug, a silent reassurance.

* * *

_**7\. Light** _

xxx

It’s unnaturally dark where she is.

She doesn’t know if it’s because the Goddess is dead, or because Chaos has consumed beyond the living. Yeul assumes it’s both. And in this void, she has nowhere to go. She can still see him. He’s… changed. And it’s painful to see that permanent glare etched on his face. Since the years have gone by, she hasn’t seen the corner of his lips tug up into a smile, doesn’t see him interact with any of the friends he met on his recent journey with Serah. At times, he’ll wander off and just sit there. Thinking.

Yeul wishes she had the power to reach into his mind, pull out the thoughts that were troubling him most.

This isn’t the Noel she knows…

He’s become cold, unforgiving to wrongdoers and rebels, taken on the moniker “Shadow Hunter”… Even his weapons have darkened, black as coal.

Chaos has an unyielding grasp on him.

And there’s nothing she can do.

So she does what she’s been doing. She keeps her eyes locked on him, hoping. No longer praying – she has no one to speak with – butjust hoping to the very being of her existence. There’s no way she can save him; it’s far too late. But every now and then, she’ll catch word of a “savior”… Someone was coming to rid Chaos, according to a prophecy. She sees him scoff at the absurdity of it all. Years and years have passed so it’s not as if she can blame him…

Yeul thought she was the only one lost in the dark with no source of light. Negativity and dark energy practically centered in on each and every corner, blotting out hope and positivity. It was too dark for her, and even worse, it was lonely.

They rarely talk.

One day, however, there’s a spark in the abyss she’s frozen in.

Her vision clears and she sees a pink-haired woman, decked in a black top and white skirt carrying a long red sword and matching shield. Shades veil her eyes from sight, but Yeul knows who she is. She saw this woman in her visions, and she was indeed the one Serah and Noel were searching for in their last adventure.

“ _Lightning…_ " She breathes.

Yes.

Lightning would be the one to shed light on the dark world, pierce Chaos and bring forth the new dawn. And through her trials, she would save Noel. To Yeul, that’s all she really wanted: To see the new world, see everyone smiling and happy…

See Noel.

* * *

_**8\. Smile** _

xxx

Hope was one person Noel actually got along with quite well. They did have a lot in common, and they had their differences.

When Alyssa dragged Serah and Mog off to talk about Graviton Cores or whatever in Etro’s nameshe wanted, Noel got to speak with the director. It was at first a tad awkward considering the fact he and Serah escaped their would-be deaths at Augusta Tower (not to mention Noel kinda-somewhat pit the blame on Hope for making the fal’Cie in the first place). Though eventually, they were able to find some slight common ground. And it all started when Noel asked about the crystal pillar.

"I’m sure Fang and Vanille will be safe…" Hope mutters, but it seems as if he’s saying it to himself rather Noel.

"…You knew them pretty well?"

Hope shrugs. “I guess you could say that.” He looks directly into Noel’s eyes, an unreadable expression on his face. “I knew Vanille more than I knew Fang, but they’re both very important.” His gaze averts to the console behind him, controls, probably. “Vanille was there for me a lot. Especially after the Purge.” The way he says “Purge” tells Noel that there is more behind the curtain. He’s not exactly sure what it is, but it speaks of dark times. “Fang and I weren’t close, but she came through for us a lot.” Hope coughs out a one note laugh, gaze directed at the ground and a light smirk on his face. “Fang’s pretty tough; I believe in her. And Vanille… I miss her smile. When we were on Pulse, I kinda… ‘used’ that to my advantage, just joking around really.”

Noel grins cheekily, folding his arms. “You? _Flirting_?”

The director blushes lightly, raising his hands up in defense. “I-It’s not what you think.”

"Oh I’m sure."

He pouts slightly (Noel finds it funny as hell), but this morphs into something mischievous, a smirk of his own. “You said the same about Yeul, didn’t you?”

Noel’s face drops and his mouth is slightly ajar in disbelief. “How the hell did you…?”

"Mog."

He rolls his eyes. “Of course…” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. Noel never thought that ‘piggy-kitty’ was listening to him when he ranted about Yeul in Augusta Tower in front of Serah and the Alyssa prototype, but apparently he did. And now the rotten devil was using it to his advantage. Despite how humorous he found the situation, he was unable to laugh. He missed Yeul, desperately, needed her like he needed water. Maybe it was an exaggeration, but the more they surfed along the Historia Crux, realizing they could alter time, he felt an odd sense of hope prick at his spine.

Hope must have sensed the change because when he spoke, his voice was more serious, the playful tone gone. “Noel?” The boy in question looked up. “We’ll find her too… We’ll bring back Fang, Vanille, Lightning… and even Yeul. We just need to work together. That’s a promise.” Though the tone was quiet, his eyes spoke his determination clearly, and it was enough to give Noel a bit of a push.

"You’re right," he sighed. "You have my support, Serah as well; she refuses to back out too."

If only he knew years and years later that this “plan” would slowly crumble by Chaos’ wrath.

* * *

_**9\. Close but far** _

xxx

 _'Wake up._ ’

"Yeul?!" He bolts upright, arm extended as if to reach out. At first, he expects to see the dark skies of Cocoon, but he’s met with the opposite. Pure white replaces the usual blue of the earth’s ceiling, and long blades of grass practically reach his shoulders. When he stands, pushing himself off the unnaturally soft ground, they reach to his thighs. There’s no sign of Yeul or anyone else for that matter. Just endless rolling seas of grass swaying in the wind. His heart sinks at this "discovery", and he wishes he would just wake up because there’s nothing out here.

A light giggle weaves through his ears and he turns.

She’s standing away, holding a flower of some sort. This time he knows it’s his Yeul, and he takes a few steps towards her, wants to hug her-

Her smile fades and she backpedals once. “Don’t. If you touch me, I’ll disappear. This is only a dream, but…” She twirls the stem of the flower, watching as the petals spin into a white wheel with a yellow centre. “It can be a reality. When everything is fixed and the timeline is destroyed… When Lightning saves the souls.”

Noel’s confused, and the look on his face does a poor job of hiding this. “Yeul, what do you mean? And Lightning’s the savior? But the prophecy—”

"It’s not true." She responds quietly, and the effect is astonishing; even the winds go still. "She’s not the one who will destroy the world. There’s another force…" Yeul looks into his eyes, green clashing with blue. "I’m almost out of time. Noel, you have to promise me that you’ll help her. It’s not too late. One little slip up could cause a chain reaction, wreck the future, demolish everything." She looks up at the blank sky. "I don’t have much time left." Her gaze is back on him, and he’s honestly startled at how short everything is, how rushed. "Noel, I wasn’t lying before. We will meet again. Not like this, in reality."

Light seeps into his vision and Yeul is fading. He cries out for her (or maybe the force that’s pulling him away from her) to “wait”, that he’s not done yet.

_There’s so much he has to ask her, so much, so much…_

Right before his eyes shut, he hears her again:

_Do what you think is right. Use your heart, not the Oracle Drive._

xxx

…”Waiting for someone?”…

 _Lightning_.

…”Yeah. A friend.”…

…”She’ll be here. Soon.”…

…A glance over a shoulder. “Thanks… Lightning, I—”…

…”Save it.” A knowing smirk. “I understand.” The sound of footsteps fading away…

…He isn’t sure how long he’s waited, not sure if it’s been minutes or hours… But he refuses to leave because he’s not going back alone…

…”Noel?”…

…His eyes widen, and slowly, _slowly_ , the corners of his mouth tug upwards in a content smile…

…”Yeul.”…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i refrained from using ao3 for the longest time because it wasn't colorful enough. no, i am not kidding you. what i manage to find across my old wattpad, deviantart, lj, and tumblr will be uploaded to this collection as long as i don't think the writing is too cringey for its time. if you were daring enough to click on a fanfic with such an unimaginative title as "pre-2019 one shots", then i would like to direct you to my [more frequent works instead](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chimera_cosmos/works).


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